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Page 361
be of her free choosing, not from any proffered list of suitors."
The hall was as silent as if it were empty. Men and women with food in their mouths forebore to chew; men and women with cups at their lips forebore to swallow. All waited on the silent, staring king.
"Come," Ian urged in ringing tones, "I have saved you a mort of money and contested lands this day. Will you confirm my prize to me before this honorable concourse of gentlefolk?"
What answer the king would have made had he been left to his own choice was questionable. However, into the silence came a low whisper from the back of the room: "What was won today will be lost tomorrow." Had even a draught stirred the hangings that voice would have been lost, but in the aching silence that followed Ian's challenge to the king, the words hissed through the hall like the whisper of the Father of Evil.
Eustace de Vesci got to his feet. "Confirm his prize, my lord," he shouted.
And first half, then three quarters, of the men in the room were on their feet. "Confirm!" they roared. "Confirm!"
Old King Henry would never have gotten himself into such a situation. King Richard would have shouted the whole hall down. In the face of force, John yielded. With his yielding, the impetus that had driven Ian disappeared. He slid back into his seat, the fire fading from his eyes, the color from his skin. As surreptitiously as possible, Alinor put an arm behind him, fearing he would fall off the bench. After a little while, as the lesser prizes were being distributed, she coaxed him into drinking some wine, and that revived him enough to sit upright until the ceremonies were over. After that, stubborn courage lifted Ian to his feet. The courage might not have been quite enough to carry him out of the hall, however, had Robert of Leicester

 
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